Читать книгу The Secret of Sheen - John Laurence Pritchard - Страница 5
ОглавлениеBILSITER PROPOSES
“Now what the devil’s the matter?” muttered Lulworth. “If that insufferable pig——”
He left the sentence unfinished. He could draw only one conclusion, that Bilsiter had said something to Avril which had brought a look of fear into her eyes, and for that Bilsiter would have to pay. That, he reflected, made it a personal score, but he must be very careful how he made the moneylender liquidate it.
He stood there undecided what to do. He had not the slightest intention of being mixed up in a wordy brawl with Bilsiter. The man was not worth it, for one thing, and for another the moneylender was not the kind of man who would keep the affair to himself. Lulworth knew only too well that Bilsiter would spread the news, in some salacious manner, that there was more between Avril Abbleway and Sir Richard Lulworth than met the eye. That possibility Lulworth could not afford to risk. He did not want Avril’s name coupled with his. He was too much in love with her for that.
He turned and walked slowly into the house and made his way into the card-room. To his surprise he saw that Avril was seated at one of the tables, playing bridge as though the game was all that mattered.
“Come and stand beside me, Sir Richard,” she cried gaily, “and bring me luck. I feel I shall want it to-night.”
“Lucky at cards,” he began.
“When I am in love,” she interrupted, “I shall give up playing cards and be on the safe side.”
“Perhaps,” he said in a low voice, “you are playing cards because you are unlucky in love.”
For a moment her eyes met his and her lips tightened. He had a queer feeling that his words had a deeper significance to her than he meant them to have, that her gaiety was forced, to deceive those with whom she was playing. He was watching her narrowly and he saw how big an effort it was for her to make some laughing reply. He said nothing more. He wanted her confidence, though he was afraid of it in a way. Avril Abbleway was the one subject upon which he found it difficult to think clearly and coolly. Although he contemplated drifting away, breaking away, indeed, he knew that always he must keep in touch with her, though she might not be aware of it, that he must always be prepared to come forward and help, whatever the cost might be to himself.
“You are very silent, Sir Richard,” said Lady Rowmands, who was partnering her son against Avril and a Mr. Sturridge, one of the under-secretaries in the Government. “I suppose you look upon us as desperate gamblers?”
“I am sure, Lady Rowmands, I don’t look upon bridge as a gamble when you are playing it,” he replied politely.
“Now that is nicely put. You ought to have been a courtier in the good old days.”
“It’s a pity you don’t play,” remarked Sturridge. “I’m sure you would make a fine player.”
Lulworth shook his head.
“There’s no real risk in it,” he answered.
“You like taking risks?” asked Sturridge, as Rowmands dealt the cards afresh.
“Isn’t life itself a risk?” parried the other with a smile. “I think without some spice of adventure life is hardly worth living.”
“Sometimes the risks one takes lead to things which make life not worth living,” remarked Sturridge picking up his cards.
Lulworth lit a fresh cigarette—carefully. What the devil did Sturridge mean by that, he reflected? Did he mean anything, or was it just one of those casual shots which accidentally hits the target? If it were not casual, if Sturridge had made the remark deliberately, Lulworth reflected that he might have to do some serious thinking. Decidedly, in any case, a few cautious inquiries about Sturridge would not be out of place.
It was Avril who was the first to speak when the hand was finished.
“May I be excused at the end of the rubber?” she asked. “I have really a splitting headache. I think there must be thunder in the air.”
There were murmurs of sympathy from Lady Rowmands and her son.
“Of course, my dear,” said Lady Rowmands. “I did not think you were quite your usual sunny self when you sat down.”
For another twenty minutes the game continued, and when, at its finish, Avril again made her excuse, Sir Richard directed her to a comfortable settee in one corner of the room.
“If you will sit there, Miss Abbleway, I will see about some wine for you.”
“I will drink it outside,” she replied. “It is cooler on the lawn.”
It was not until the servant had placed the tray on the small garden table and receded out of earshot that she spoke again.
“Did you see Mr. Bilsiter come back?” she asked.
“No, I did not,” he replied. “Has he been annoying you?”
“He has asked me to be his wife.”
The words came quickly, as though she hated saying them, and as she replaced her glass on the table Lulworth saw that her hand shook. She avoided meeting his eyes.
“He has asked you that twice already,” he said. “If he won’t take ‘No’ for an answer then——”
“This time I shall say ‘Yes.’ ”
Though she spoke in a tone which was almost inaudible, her words acted on him, as he was sitting there, like an electric shock.
“You’re going to say ‘Yes’?” he cried in amazement, crushing his cigarette beneath his heel.
She looked at him without speaking. She had no need to repeat her words. The agony and shame of them were plain to read in her face. He was mentally stunned. That she had been a free agent never occurred to him. Avril Abbleway was not the sort of girl ever to give herself willingly to a man whose notoriety had reached even her ears. He searched his mind for words to say to her, ruthlessly crushing back the words which he wanted to say.
“You are going to marry Bilsiter?” he said slowly, at last. “But—but it’s madness!”
“He has half the peerage under his thumb,” she quoted him. “I shall move in high society.”
She spoke jestingly, but he brushed her words aside.
“My dear,” he said gravely. “You are in trouble. May I have the privilege of helping you?”
“You can’t help me; no one can help me—you least of all.”
Avril buried her face in her hands. When she looked up again her companion saw that her eyes were wet.
“What is it?” he asked. “If it’s a question of money——”
Avril Abbleway shook her head vigorously.
“Oh, why,” she began, and then suddenly broke off. “No, no, it’s not money. It’s—it’s greater than money. Nothing can buy it.”
“You surely haven’t definitely promised to marry that bounder?” he demanded.
“I have promised him a decision to-morrow morning,” she answered steadily. “It can only be ‘yes,’ and he knows that.”
“Tell me all about it.”
“I can’t,” she replied obstinately, avoiding his glance. “I can’t. No, no, please.”
“But how can I help you if I have no idea what is the matter?” demanded Lulworth.
“You can’t help me. Don’t you understand,” she reiterated incoherently. “I can’t ask anybody for help now. I can’t explain. I—I—to-night—Oh, how can I tell you, please, please go away.”
“I’ll get the truth out of Bilsiter if I have to wring his neck,” he cried with sudden anger. “Don’t you understand too, that I want to help you, that I would take any risk to help you? You are in trouble. If you won’t let me help you, go to your father. You can’t possibly marry this man. You don’t know what you are doing. You——”
She stopped him with a gesture, and a new note came into her voice.
“Perhaps—perhaps I did not understand,” she answered. “I must think. Please, please promise me that you won’t speak to him till I give you permission. He has given me a great shock.”
Lulworth, like all who have the power of sympathy, knew the value of silence. He sat there racking his brains for some clue to the hold which Bilsiter might have obtained over her. He knew Avril well enough to know that she was not a girl to yield easily: that only some overwhelming terror of the consequences to some other person would make her yield. She would not yield because of the consequences to herself.
Yes, that was it, he reflected. Some other person. And that person, he knew, was her brother.
“Will you give me permission to speak to Bilsiter before—before you give him your answer?” he asked at last.
“No, no,” she replied. “I want to make up my own mind first. You must promise not to speak to anyone.”
She bent forward quickly as he hesitated.
“Don’t you understand?” she added. “I have told you because—because——”
She stopped as though searching her mind for the right words to use.
“Because?” he echoed.
“Because I had to,” she continued in desperation. “You were the one person I had to tell. I couldn’t tell father or Tommy. They wouldn’t understand. You—you——”
“I understand,” he said gravely. “But I shall not let you make this sacrifice. You are young, you do not know what you are doing. It would be better for you if you died to-night than you should become the wife of that man.”
“What are you going to do?”
She was staring through him, as though she scarcely saw him, and her voice seemed hardly part of herself. She was dazed with the conflict of her emotions, yet she managed to keep back the torrent of entreaties which was on her lips. She might break, but when she did it would be in the solitude of her own room. In the last two hours Avril had come into the knowledge that Sir Richard Lulworth was her man, and that very knowledge prevented her from opening her mind to him. Now she knew why she had always looked forward to seeing him, why, in a very few weeks, nay days, she would never see him again.
The knowledge that she loved him terrified her for the action he might take. He had never looked at her quite as he looked at her now, now that she had told him she was contemplating marrying Bilsiter. Nor had he spoken to her before with that authority in his voice. She was beginning to understand what that dilettante attitude hid, and it left her trembling.
“What are you going to do?” she repeated fearfully.
“That question I am afraid I must be rude enough to refuse to answer,” he replied. “But I am not going to let you marry Leonard Bilsiter, and I am not going to betray your confidence.”
His tones were final.
“You have no right to interfere in my affairs because I have given you my confidence,” she cried desperately, as she rose from her chair.
“Will you please make my excuses to Lady Rowmands?” she added. “Good night, Sir Richard.”
“And now, I think, action, before she takes it,” muttered Lulworth grimly to himself. “She is more wonderful than she will ever know.”
But for once he found action was not so easy. Visits to the billiard-room, the card-room and the library did not bring him in contact with Tommy Abbleway. Though he had agreed to say nothing to anyone about the confidence Avril had given him he hoped that the information would be given to him. There were ways of obtaining information without directly asking it, and once the information he sought was in his possession he could act upon it and act swiftly.
He did not want to draw any attention to the fact that he was looking for Avril’s brother. That might afterwards involve explanations, and explanations might lead anywhere.
When, at twelve o’clock, he retired to his room he had not seen either Leonard Bilsiter or Tommy Abbleway.
